The Show Is Over
by FilthyBonnet
Summary: A collection of one shots set in my Love Never Dies AU where Christine lives that happen within the first few days and months after that night. These were all written in response to a list of angst/fluff prompts posted on tumblr.
1. You've Been Drinking Tonight

The door to the Phantasma Hotel suite opened. Even though he tried to close it gently as not to alert of his presence, it was too late.

"You've been drinking tonight, haven't you?" Christine Daae's voice soft as it floated up from one of the large chairs.

Vicomte did not see her because the chair was turned facing looking out through the glass balcony doors. He sighed as he turned on a lamp.

"Or shall I say this morning? Not that it matters we both know the answer to the question."

"So I had a few drinks," Raoul staggered over to the settee his feet heavy on the floor. It creaked as he flopped down. "Shouldn't you be resting anyway? Mr. Y wouldn't want you anymore exhausted than you were from rehearsal today." He unbuttoned his waistcoat. "Did you even get any rehearsing done?"

"What do you mean?" Christine snapped.

"Oh, Little Lotte, you play the innocent victim so well in our marriage," Raoul laughed as he kicked off his shoes. "Everyone knows I'm a drunk who wasted my inheritance. They don't know the fall from grace I saved you from."

Christine stood her dressing robe swaying around her as she turned to face her husband, "I didn't marry you because I needed saving. I married you because I loved…love you."

"Do you believe when we return to Paris, Gustave will finally have a sibling?"

Even if he was not looking at her, The Soprano had to turn away her cheeks burned so hot and bright, "I think not. His father continues to prefer the stupor of pleasures which render him impotent." She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before walking over to the seetee.

"I'm ending this. Now that I know you made it back safe, I am going back to sleep. Good night, Raoul," Christine leaned over and lightly kissed her husband on the lips. It felt like a betrayal to Erik who she had kissed earlier that day. That alone was conflicting because why should kissing your husband be the betrayal?

As she walked away, The Vicomte mumbled under his breath, "I can still smell his cologne on you."


	2. Want To Grab A Drink?

His clothes were disheveled, jacket missing as he paced back and forth outside of the hotel's front doors, looking at his pocket watch.

Mr. Y almost felt bad for him. Almost. When he stepped out of the shadows the man startled.

"You really are going to be the death of me!" He exclaimed. He put his watch away, "How is she?"

"You know you can visit her, Vicomte," Mr. Y calmly stated.

"I figured you and Gustave to constantly be at her bedside. My presence would only bring friction."

"She would like to speak to you privately. You still are her husband after all," The words were bitter on Mr. Y's tongue.

Raoul laughed, "A mere formality. Recent events have proved where her heart has always been and I was cuckolded from the beginning."

Bitter rivals were silent for a moment. The Vicomte combed his hair with his fingers as he caught sight of the attaché case in Mr. Y's hand. The reason for this meeting.

"Do you want to grab a drink?" Raoul pulled at his vest. "I have always found business meetings go better…"

"The nerve of you, Vicomte!" Erik's voice boomed. He however stopped mid-thought and just smiled. That was more unsettling to Raoul. "If it wasn't for your drinking or gambling dear Sir, Christine would have never crossed my path again. However, I prefer to do business sober." He opened one of the hotel's doors and held it for Raoul, "Christine knows about our little wager now and isn't exactly thrilled. Regardless, I would rather you return to Paris with your debts paid. You'll have enough gossip to manage returning without your wife and son."

"Excuse me?" Raoul followed Erik to a table in the hotel lobby.

"As I told you, Christine wishes to speak to you. Perhaps you should go see her after this."


	3. This Isn't Goodbye

He took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

"Come in." Her voice was faint.

He cleared his throat as he opened the door and watched the smile on her pale face drop.

"That alone tells me all I need to know, but Mr. Y informed me you wanted to see me," Vicomte de Chagny sat down in the leather chair beside Christine's bed.

The Diva was propped up against a pile of pillows, her brown curls down and all around, just how she used to wear them. The linen of her nightgown was thin and he could see the bandage wrapped around her abdomen.

"Are you in any pain?"

"The doctor gives me opium when I need it, but it's been getting better. Daily washes to keep it from getting infected." Christine pulled on the lace on her sleeve. "Thank you for your concern, Raoul."

"So what did you want to see me about?"

"You left us, Raoul. If Gustave had not gone and got you from the station you would not have known what happened to me."

The Vicomte sighed and leaned back in the chair, "I thought it was clear you made your choice. I left you a note."

"You should have had the gall to tell me in person. I am tired of the men in my life not being able to confront me. We wouldn't be here today if Erik would haven't left me that morning…"

"The morning of that night you betrayed me and built our whole marriage on a lie?" Raoul crossed his arms and looked out the balcony window doors.

"Yes, Raoul, I too brought trouble to our marriage. And I am sorry for that. I did love you though as you did love me but maybe this was for the better? So much of our relationship was built on what we used to be and fantasy. We were foolish to think love could conquer the divide between our social standings." Christine pulled the covers up higher over her body.

"Oh Lotte, don't say such things," Raoul turned back to her. "It wasn't all bad."

"Just as this isn't goodbye," The Soprano reached over and took The Vicomte's hand. "I want a divorce, Raoul. Though with what you've discovered you can probably get a complete an annulment. I am sure your family will appreciate that; be able to dismiss everything you did these past ten years on the Opera Tart and her bastard child."

"Christine, no!" Raoul's eyes widen as he cupped his other hand over hers. "The divorce I will grant and Gustave full custody to you. I am sure Mr. Y wishes to claim what is biologically his. I cannot and will not blame the sins and failures of our marriage all on you, when we were both at fault." He let go of her hand, "I am going to go now. For real this time. I have passage for France tomorrow morning."

"Please see Gustave before you leave," Tears formed in The Diva's eyes.

"I will."

Christine took a deep breath and despite the pain of the position, leaned over and let her lips meet The Vicomte's. It was short and sweet and when she pulled away his eyes were wide, his brow furrowed in perplexation.

"What was that for? I thought this wasn't goodbye?"

"It's not. We'll always be in each other's heart."


	4. Going Somewhere?

Christine strung the last piece of popcorn on the strand. She held it up and frowned seeing there was about a foot left.

"It looks like I will need to make more popcorn," she sighed. However, she had been situated on the Persian rug in front of the roaring fire so long she did not want to move from its comfort.

Erik who was putting tinsel on the tree turned to look at The Soprano, "Don't worry about that, Angel. I doubt Gustave will notice that, especially if we cut it and knot it off where the popcorn ends."

"But it's our first Christmas as a family and I want it to be perfect," Christine sighed, dropping the popcorn strand.

"It is already perfect," Erik sat down on the floor beside her. "You're alive, we're married and finally a family with our son. Plus, with the gifts we have for him, that popcorn strand will go unnoticed."

"But it won't for me!" Christine went to stand up but The Angel of Music grabbed her hand.

"Going somewhere?"

"Yes! To make the damned popcorn we've been talking about."

A sly grin on his bloated lips, Erik yanked on her hand, "I think not, Christine."

She toppled back onto the rug, her skirts puffing up around her.

"Erik!" She shrieked.

He chuckled, crawling onto of her. He removed a sprig of mistletoe from his vest pocket. It was flat and slightly withered but he held it over Christine's head. "I am learning fast about Christmas traditions and I believe one is due kisses under this poisonous plant."

Christine smiled, lifting her hands to her husband's mask, "Only if I can remove this."

He nodded and she lifted it sitting it beside the popcorn strand. She then wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and lifted her head up so her lips met his. The withered plant found its way to the floor as The Phantom's hands found their way into his wife's hair and down her chest.

She pulled away, slightly breathless, "Erik! Gustave might wake up."

"I thought you locked the parlor door," distended lips skimmed down her throat.

"I did. I didn't want him walking in on the Christmas surprise," Christine arched up her body into his.

"In that case, where did I put that mistletoe?" Erik leaned back down, passionately kissing her.

The Diva lifted her legs wrapping them around her husband's behind. Lips and fingers fondled over clothing. Nimble fingers, slowly undid the buttons on Christine's top. "Does this count as a Christmas surprise?"

Christine giggled, "For you, maybe. And my dress a gift you can unwrap."

Erik finished the last button and pushed the top open exposing her corset, "I am sure I can give you something in return." He pushed his loins into her as he leaned back down and kissed her. The Diva softly moaned. The Phantom of the Opera was going to like celebrating Christmas.


	5. It's Cold, You Should Take My Jacket

Mr. Y rolled in their bed. It was too easy and the spot he ended up in cold. Golden eyes darted open as he sighed. He knew exactly where she was. The Phantom dressed himself quickly, just enough to go fetch his wandering wife.

Christine had gone beyond the Phantasma Boardwalk this time. She stood right were the waves met the sand. The dawning sun barely peaking over the dark Atlantic waves; just starting to paint the sky purple and pink. Spring was here, but nobody told the early winding ocean mornings. The Soprano's arms were wrapped tight around her core as her brown curls blew wild.

"I dreamed of Paris again," Christine looked over her shoulder, hearing her husband's footfall on the sand.

"And were you planning to swim?"

"I want to go back…just to visit of course," She lowered one of her hands and held it back to him. When she did her teeth chattered.

Erik sighed, "It's cold, you should take my jacket." He pulled the long, black coat off his body and draped it over her shoulders. He pulled her tight to his body, letting her back rest against stomach. "Are these dreams why you keep running out here in the cold morning air, Angel? You're going to get sick, ruin your throat and voice."

"We have time for a vacation before the new season. May we please go, Angel?" Christine rested her head against his chest.

"Are you sure? Back to all that hurt us? And who knows what vile things the Vicomte has said about you?"

"But there were wonderful things too," Christine turned to face him. She embraced him, "And beautiful things, Angel. Things we never got to see or do together in the light, above ground and away from the opera house."

Erik's lips met her forehead and then her cheeks, "I guess we could make new memories as a family. Soften the edges of Paris in my mind. And you are correct there were wonderful things. It was where we met; it was where our son was conceived. We wouldn't be who we are today…"

The Diva tilted her head up letting her lips met her husband's distended ones.

Erik pulled away and smiled, "But now back inside! If you catch cold, there will be no trip."


End file.
